Where I was a Wiccan BodySnatcher
by Shiraishi Kumiko
Summary: The balance of power in Middle Earth is thrown badly off center, and a band of often overlooked individuals are called to action. It's Sue against Sue in this somewhat bizarre SlashParody. Admittedly weird.
1. A Very Strange Beginning

Nothingness. It trapped him, enfolded him in shadowy arms, siren-calling him to a slumber that might very well be eternal.

Normally, it would have frightened him, but the very embrace that chilled him so also removed any trace of fear within him.

Now there was only silence, and peace.

And the darkness loomed closer.

---------------------------------

_I suppose I should get to the gist of the tale, though? And, interesting as the current plight of our hero may be, that is not this story's beginning._

_In fact, it is not a beginning at all…_

---------------------------------

She could have blamed the dog, she thought in retrospect.

It was his fault, after all, he was the one that knocked over the bar lamp, which caused the power cords in the ceiling to be pulled out, creating the sparks that set the ritual circle of oils and herbs on fire.

That the damned sprinkler system was activated was due to the burning ritual circle, which, she was certain, _was _the dog's fault.

Of course, who would have figured that the sparking power cords would have sent enough electricity through the puddled water on the floor to magnetize the Celtic runestones…

Hell, who would have known that the damn things were made of iron ore!

That her apartment was directly south of a large lake, directly west of a large forest, and directly northeast of a large power plant certainly didn't help matters any, either.

And, or course, it had to be Samhein, more commonly known these days as All Hallow's Eve.

Damn Druidic rituals, damn lay lines, damn celestial influxes, and damn modern day conveniences.

Damn pets, too.

But, then again, all that would have had absolutely no influence if, at that singular worst time, directly at the apex of her transcendental meditation, (as the ritual demanded, directly in the center of the circle and the runes,) her hentai mind had not decided to one up her.

Noooo… She just bloody had to daydream about a naked bloody elf!

It was just fortunate she didn't fancy Legolas, or she might really have been in trouble. (But she wasn't yet aware of that.)

After blacking out due to the rather unpleasant sensation of being sucked down a drain, she had woken up in an office. A rather nice office, with carvings on the wall, a good selection of vases and figurines, and a hardwood desk, stacked with papers.

Lots, and lots of papers. And in the parchment style, too. The look was even completed with a feathered quill and a bottle of ink.

All in all, a decent enough place for one to wake up in, especially considering some of the places she had woken up in previously. (The cargo area of a jumbo jet in takeoff, for instance.)

She figured that it would be easy enough for her to sneak out, as long as she left before anyone could cause a commotion.

And as the window behind the desk suggested, it was not far past sunrise. Surprising that she should be up, actually.

Especially with… She stopped dead in her pacing as her mind ran over once again the details of what had happened the night before.

It was fortunate she was still alive, actually. The powers the ritual had summoned were nothing to be trifled with. People had been possessed, or had fallen into rapture with an elemental kingdom under far less influence.

She had known the risks, and had chosen to take them. She had prepared and planned every detail exactly, but she didn't have enough sense to put the dog outside. Or at least in another room.

Maybe it was her fault, actually.

She just hoped the mutt was all right.

With a dramatic sigh, she raised her hand with the intent of massaging the bridge of her nose. She froze as her eyes registered something that should not have been.

The hand was not her own.

She gazed upon the limb in near horror as her brain mindlessly catalogued every minute difference. The fingers were longer, the skin a tone darker, the nails shorter and more thick. While still slender and strong, the muscles were more suited for deskwork than the rough play she often favored.

As her eyes drifted from the hand to the covered arm (not so different in shape or bone structure) she had enough presence of mind to look down.

In that moment of utter shock, the cynical and humorous part of her mind noted a most important and intriguing detail.

She was no longer female.

It was at that exact moment that the door to the office slammed open, and a tall, comely blonde dressed in rather archaic clothing gazed upon her male form beseechingly.

"Erestor," the blond stated firmly, "we have a problem."


	2. A Blight Upon Arda

It was not a sunshiny day in the neighborhood when Mr. Tall, Blonde, and Clueless left the office.

No Siree-Bob it wasn't.

Not even a teeny-weenie bit.

Not even a smidegeon.

Just... No. Iee. Nada. Niet...

Somewhere in the valley of the river of denial, a voice could be heard, and it said:

_Erestor. Eee-restor. Eeee-ress-TOR. _

As in the male body she was currently inhabiting.

As in the purely fictional minor character presented in J.R. Tolkien's Lord of the Rings Trilogy (and touched upon in his later Simarillion.)

As in the naked (fortunately he wasn't so at the moment or she just might have screamed) bloody elf she had been daydreaming about.

As in the reason that she was (apparently) in Middle Earth. Also known as Arda.

_Brilliant. Just... brilliant._

And then she fainted.

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"Erestor!" Elrond called happily upon seeing his most favorite advisor (next to his stuffed bear Mr. Fluffiluffigans, of course.) "Glad you could make it."

The dark-haired elf, rolled his eyes and fought off a groan of annoyance. "And just what is this about, Milord?" he asked tersely, noting the uncharacteristically **_fluffy_** tone of his Lord's voice, and wondering vaguely if he had gotten into the Greenleaf again.

The last time little Estel had brought some of his favorite stuff home to share had _not_ been pretty.

Glorfindel sighed theatrically from where he stood beside the lithe intellectual. "Grumpy here was hiding in the library when I found him," he said with a pout. "He said he didn't even remember me telling him all about this, this, this... this morning."

The sentence was punctuated with an even deeper pout, and a matching set of puppy-dog eyes aimed in 'Grumpy's' direction.

Erestor, wisely deciding to ignore all this, settled on giving a patented death glare to the arm still intertwined with his own. Glorfy-dearest, having latched onto him in the library, had yet to let him go.

And if his behavior was anything to go by, Estel had decided to share his stash with more than just his father.

Which meant that Erestor had just to grit his teeth and bear whatever nonsense they had decided to come up with in their crazy, smoke induced haze.

Damned Rangers, and their damned transmittable bad habits.

Deciding to get this done and over with, (and having enough experience with inebriated elves to know that it was best to humor them,) Erestor shook off the Balrog Slayer's suspiciously clingy arm, and then stalked over to take a seat at the table.

Far away from his stoned superior.

Glorfindel, who whimpered - _WHIMPERED_ - at the loss of contact, went to sit beside Elrond, looking much like a kicked puppy.

Erestor ignored this as well. "What," he exclaimed, after waiting for what he felt was a just amount of time, "pray tell, is this most grievous emergency that so urgently demanded my attention."

Sure, so he had to humor them. Didn't mean he had to be particularly happy about it.

A burst of loud and annoying laughter broke out from somewhere behind him, causing the scholar to jump in his seat, scraping his fingernails across the wooden surface of the table, and thus forcing a fair amount of the surface layer to chip off.

Yes. The Laugh was _that_ annoying.

Whipping around to find the source of the disturbance, Erestor noted a distended blobby stick figure with puke colored eyes and hair that vaguely resembled the feathers of molting duck.

Something deep within him rebelled against the mysterious figure, noting that her figure was unpleasant, the swirling colors of her pukey eyes not even remotely enticing, and that her hair could be quite improved by a barrel of pigs' grease.

The two elves behind him squealed in what appeared to be rampant joy, and the horrific beast laughed once more. Lacking the tabletop, Erestor was forced to vent his pain upon his legs.

"Erestor!" Elrond exclaimed once again, apparently just for the hell of it. "This is Skye-Marie-Bella-Twilight!"

Glorfindel added with a grin; "She's come to save us all!"

Now, at this exact moment, several very important things happened.

At this exact moment, Erestor's often ignored inner voice ordered him to kill the foul creature besmirching his very existence.

At this exact moment, the Grey Wizard Gandalf, bearing dreadful news of a most horrible disaster, barged through the door, and gawped (as opposed to gaped, which implies some semblence of self-control,) horrified at the sight of the beast.

And, of course, in the time honored tradition of bumbling sidekicks, half-arsed sidestory villains, and general plot device characters everywhere, our Anti-Sue chose this most critical moment to wake the hell up.

And, of course, again in the time honored tradition of bumbling sidekicks, half-arsed sidestory villains, and general plot device characters everywhere, several things abruptly slid into focus for our dear, poor, trans-dimensional-crossing Body-Snatching Wiccan.

She was a male. She was _Erestor_, of all people. She was on Arda. In a conference with an apparently stoned Elrond and Glorfindel. Gandalf was looking on in horror. And the bane of her existence was standing less than two feet away from her, twirling it's pseudo hair and emitting something sounding suspiciously like a vapid giggle.

It was too much.

With a howl of rage she pounced upon the minion of her most hated foe, a quick blow to the face knocking her opponent backwards, stunning it just long enough for the Body-Snatcher to hook a leg behind its knees and send it tumbling towards the floor.

A swift and brutal drop kick to the throat finished it off, its magical affect dying as its tortured soul was released from its mortal shell.

A voice in her head was howling; _"What have you done!"_ but as it sounded somewhat pissy, and therefore nothing like her regular voices, she chose to ignore it.

"Why in the name of the Seven Hells, did you allow a Mary-Sue access into Arda!" she cried skyward to whatever force was listening, (and whatever force was responsible,) her hands balled in frustration, horror, and some disgust. Mostly at having to _touch_ it.

Two identical sounding 'thwaps' sounded out from behind her, and she turned to witness the Balrog Slayer and Elrond the Half-Elven, passed out on upon the council floor.

Weakly, Gandalf asked from his position at the door, "Erestor? What…?" his question tailed off into an expression of complete and utter befuddlement.

Twitching from excess adrenaline, untold amounts of stress, and the general freakiness of the situation, our plot device simply gazed down in horror once more at the corpse of what had once been part of the breed of OC known only as the 'Mary Sue.'

"The Sues…" she whispered in false calm. "They have come…"

_A Blight upon Arda…_

_

* * *

_

**Sushi-San85**: A Wiccan BodySnatcher. Wiccan, because Wicca is the particular religion of the main OC. BodySnatcher, after the late night movie that involved aliens and possession. Mostly it's just a humorous term for this sort of thing.

**darthoccultus: **What the heck, indeed. It was the reaction I was going for, so I thank you for your grace in delivering it. If you have seen this chapter, then you probably know that I stole your 'Blight upon Arda' comment and turned it into a plot idea. Sorry 'bout that, but it was too good to pass up.

**RosethornAngel**: Really? (Cocks lone eyebrow.) Glad ya liked it. Detail isn't exactly my strong suit, but I'll make an effort. A ritual to zap her body into Arda? Hmm… Perhaps.

**green-potted-plant**: Umm… (Blinks twice.) Thankies! Glad I took you by surprise. Made you laugh out loud, huh? Kewl.

**Valinore's Twilight**: Why thank you. And that's just my horrible typing, and my spellcheck failing in its sworn duty. I'll probably fix it later.

And so the anti-Sueness begins. As well as a number of other horribly embarassing and/or insulting things for pretty much every character ever touched upon in the trilogy. (Just so you know, this is pre-LOTR.) And a parody. And Slash. I will not be held responsible for anyone failing to understand those two priciples. And I will probably do my best to poke fun at you, too. (Nyeh, nyeh.)


	3. The Six Laws of Murphy

_It is believed to be safe to say that the majority of sentient beings beyond the age of twelve who live upon the 3rd planet from the star Sol in the fringes of the Milky Way galaxy are familiar (in passing, at least) with the Prime Law of Murphy._

_But, what those beings may not know is that Murphy's Prime Law is but the first of six such laws, progressing from least to most dangerous. Kind of enlightening, ne?_

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As if separated from the world by a great distance, Erestor could only look on, in mild distress, as the thing that wore his body swiftly executed the Crime against Nature.

Normally, he knew, this sort of thing just did not happen. Bodies, out of nowhere, do not just suddenly toss their owners into the land between dreaming and wakefulness and go killing abominations on their own. Or, at least, his didn't.

_What have you done!_ his subconscious howled, but he could not respond.

"Why in the name of the Seven Hells did you allow a Mary Sue access into Arda!" Erestor could hear his voice demanding of the ceiling. Idly, he wondered just what a Mary Sue was, and where were these Hells. Did they have room service?

"Erestor? What…?" Gandalf's voice drifted weakly to his ears.

"The Sues…" Erestor heard his voice whisper. "They have come…"

_"A Blight upon Arda…"_

Certain that, whatever that was, it could not be more important than the peaceful feeling of drifting along the shore of consciousness, Erestor decided to ignore both the mysterious female voice and its unexpected presence in his head.

He simply relaxed, stretching out his awareness like a cat about to curl up in a sunbeam.

The Anti-Sue, turning on her _(Erestor's)_ heel, stared at Gandalf. "Explain yourself," she demanded rudely. "I know you have something to do with this. You _always _have something to do with it."

"I… will." Gandalf's right eye twitched. "Erestor… you…"

"What is it, old man? Just spit it out already!" Normally she was more polite, but… This was just nuts. _You_ try keeping your patience after you've been snatched out of your home, dumped into a fictional world in another person's body, who is an elf and the wrong gender, and then find yourself confronted by an impossible situation!

"You… when you first saw this… creature," the old Istari glanced down at the withered, desiccated husk upon the chamber floor, "what exactly did you _feel?_"

"Disgusted," the Anti-Sue answered truthfully. "And very, very, angry."

"Then… you…" Gandalf nervously adjusted his staff, glancing about the room. He froze for a moment when he spied Elrond and Glorfindel upon the floor. "I… need to sit down first."

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_1.) Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong._

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Upon comfortably situating his tooshie, Gandalf began his tale of woe.

"My story starts a few months ago, upon the completion of Dale. Bard, he who slew the dread dragon Smaug, and the new Master of that rebuilt place, discovered a young maiden, with hair of corn silk, skin like alabaster, eyes like the placid sea."

"So the dragonslayer found some pale blonde chick."

"Chick?"

"Never… mind. Continue."

"Ah, yes. Now, this maiden, arriving unexpected with no entourage, drew quite some attention. More, it seems, after she somehow turned Bard against his wife and child."

"So it was a man-stealing slut?

"Eh… yes?"

"All right. Continue."

"At first the townsfolk were quite upset. But, after meeting the maiden in person, they quickly turned about their opinions of her. Even the displaced woman and child forgave her."

"So the pale blond man-stealing slut used some sort of voodoo power to get them to idolize her?"

"Er…" Gandalf blinked at the person he thought was Erestor.

"Just… Say 'yes.'"

"Yes."

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_2.) If there is a possibility of several things going wrong, the one that will cause the most damage will be the one to go wrong._

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"And I'm guessing that this wasn't just an isolated occurrence?"

"Well, no. Soon after receiving word of the events in Dale and Lake-town…"

"Wait; Lake-town?"

"Yes, Lake-town has also fallen."

"Ah: gotcha."

"Ah, yes; soon after receiving word of the events in Dale and Lake-town, a messenger came to me from the Rorrihrim. Theodred, King, has fallen. The… creature, there, it seems, attempted to pursue Theodred's young nephew, Eomer, but was frustrated when he and his sister attacked in retaliation."

"Hah ha!"

"They were exiled because of it."

"Ah, damn."

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_3.) If there is a worse time for something to go wrong, it will happen then._

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"Upon receiving this news, I immediately set out for Isenguard, to consult the eldest and wisest of my order, Sarumon the White. It was to my grief to discover that, he, too, had fallen. If only I had set out sooner…"

"…"

"I might have been able to prevent his falling, as well as…"

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_4.) If anything simply cannot go wrong, it will anyway._

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"As well as what?"

"The Golden Wood… Is a stronghold no longer."

"So Galadriel got pwned, huh? And Celeborn is a brain dead zombie?"

"Is this another 'yes' question?"

"Yes. Now continue."

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_5.) If you perceive that there are four possible ways in which a procedure can go wrong, and circumvent these, a fifth way, unprepared for, will promptly develop._

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"It was to our benefit, that, at the time, Gondor was as of yet unfallen. Upon my arrival at the white city, I was called into an audience with the Steward. Denethor listened to my cautions, and agreed that something had to be done."

"And then it all went south?"

"South?"

"It's an expression. Continue."

"Foolishly, I believed that Gondor was safe. I had forgotten that Denethor's eldest son, Boromir, had not been present for our meeting. He had no way of knowing that…"

"Oh, for the love of…! How hard is it to simply say; Boromir brought the damned thing in, and no one could resist? Really, how hard?"

"Ah, but that is where you are mistaken; Faramir, Boromir's brother and Denethor's younger son..."

"Reacted just like Eowyen and Eomer and got exiled for it?"

"Well, thrown in the dungeons. _I_ was exiled. But, otherwise, yes."

"Oh. Joy."

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_6.) Left to themselves, things go from bad to worse._

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"And this brings us to…?" the Anti-Sue trapped in Erestor's body queried, waving a hand about. It was quite obvious what things were adding up to, and the sum wasn't exactly the best of conclusions.

"Now." Gandalf said with a nod. "Here."

She nodded along. "Where a Sue appeared, and died. I guess this is the first time that's happened?"

"Well," Gandalf glanced over again at the still unconscious Peredril and Balrog Slayer. "Yes. All the others have failed miserably, and suffered for it."

The Anti-Sue tipped her head back and laughed uproariously. It had been one of those days.

The looks of confusion on the faces of Elrond and Glorfindel's faces when they finally awoke were almost worth it.

* * *

It had been a long while, mostly spent in pointless discussion with the three dips, before our Anti-Sue was able to make her escape. It was a full five minutes of swift walking through the hallways before she realized that she had no idea of where she was going. 

After all, they were _Erestor's_ rooms.

This thought, it seems was the perfect trigger for the elf in question to pop out of his idle cat nap, and back into control of his body. Possessing a fuzzy memory of what had transpired that day, he did not immediately question the strangeness of the situation he found himself in.

Running his mind over what Gandalf and his two co-workers had mentioned in their meeting, Erestor turned and confidently strode in the direction of his rooms.

* * *

**Valinor's Twilight:** Really? Not overdone? Mmm… yes. Part o' the plan. I really only like the three more innocous types of Sue. The Cannon!Sue, the Anti!Sue and the harmless Non-Main-Character-Sue. If written well, they can be quite enjoyable. 

**darthoccultus: **Yay! A regular reader! And thankies for the compliments. Weirdness is fun.

**Sushi-san85:** Um… yeah. Misunderstandings can be a pain. Didn't mean to offend.

The premises and the cast list is done! That is why you were made to wait for so long, and I appologize. But, at least now I know what I'm doing. Added on 7/17/06.


End file.
